


Before the Hours Passed

by mypedia



Series: Ties That Bind [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Steve, M/M, sub bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypedia/pseuds/mypedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky knows he’ll always just be a rebellious, snarky little shit- the wisecracking side-kick sub that Steve wouldn’t look at twice.</p><p>Well, he's always been up for a challenge.</p><p>Let Mission Seduction commence.</p><p>**A prequel of sorts to 'Anything That Bleeds'**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Hours Passed

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to write this companion piece to Anything That Bleeds because Bucky'll be showing up there soon enough. This will be about four chapters long. 
> 
> I don't do any world-building here, but it's not necessary to have read Anything That Bleeds. 
> 
> Warnings: Subs in the 1920s were treated very differently to subs in the 2010s, and my intent is not to show Bucky overcoming the prejudice he faces, have society change, etc. It's just some background into what life was like for Steve and Bucky before the ice.

It’s all Steve’s fault. 

Bucky was just _barely_ keeping his thoughts from spiraling into R-rated when Steve was a hot little punk with a penchant for back-alley fights. Now he’s a hot punk _with a six-pack,_ and he definitely ain’t little by any definition of the word _._

It might’ve been alright if he’d turned into an asshole with his newfound height, and newfound gaggle of simpering USO girls trailing after his every word. But he’s still the same Steve, and remains kind, almost impossibly so, with the same edge of gentleness that makes Bucky go weak at the knees.  

Oh, there are rough doms. Bucky’s had plenty of those. The doms who’d fuck him so hard he saw stars, their hands tugging hair while their mouths spit orders faster than he could think to obey. He loves it when Steve is sweet, but he takes equal pleasure in thinking of Steve like that, in imagining his fiery nature for once corralled and focused laser-sharp on Bucky, rather than on whoever had happened to insult him that day.

Sometimes, when Steve gets- _got_ \- into fights (nobody is stupid enough to start a brawl with him now), it was with people who thought a sickly little dom was an opponent pathetic enough to defeat without much effort, but worthy enough that a victory provided sought-after bragging rights. More often, however, Bucky would patch up a bruised and bleeding Steve because some asshole had made a derogatory comment about subs, about Bucky, about Steve’s mother. And then it was down to Bucky to knock some sense into him because _for fuck’s sake,_ Steve, a chronically-ill asthmatic kid who clocks in at 110 lbs soaking wet _is not any better able to protect himself than a sub,_ for crying out loud, Rogers! It was a continuing mystery to the doctors that Steve was a.) a dom, and b.) alive. 

Makes sense now, Bucky figures. Some part of Steve must’ve been anticipating this… war strategy _, experiment,_ whatever they’re calling the Captain America shit now. Same thing, different name. They used him as a guinea pig, and it fucking sucks, and Bucky’s too narcissistic to deny that part of why it fucking sucks is that Steve somehow has a lot less time for him, with all the press they cart him around to do. Philly, Houston, New York, DC, Chicago, repeat.

Come to think of it, he actually has no idea where Steve is right now. Last Bucky saw him was last night, and now he’s having lunch with Jones with no sign of Steve. 

He cracks open a nut and enjoys the way it grinds against his teeth, watching with mild interest as a woman walks up to a man outside the base. It’s hard to see the faces from this far away, but it’s obvious from the posture that they’re flirting. 

Wait. Is that-

He sits up straighter. Jesus fucking Christ, it _is_ Steve out there making moves on some girl. Which, huh. Okay.

“Who’s that?” he asks Jones, trying to keep the edge out of his tone. They’re probably not flirting, to be honest. Bucky’s pretty far away; they’re almost definitely just talking.

“Margaret Carter,” his teammate supplies, as the pair near the base begins to walk closer to the lunch tables. “She was involved with Project Rebirth.”

She must be a big shot. Or a janitor, actually, who knows. Maybe she cleaned up the room after the whole serum shit was done. “What’s she doing here?”

“Hell if I know.” Jones nudges him, gesturing to his plate. “Better eat up, blinker. They’ll be collecting the plates soon.” Blinker’s what they call all the subs around here- a moniker referring to the way a sub is supposed to gaze lovingly up at their dom. Bucky had heard it often enough in New York, but in the army it’s used synonymously with his name. “And stop making eyes at Agent Carter.”

“She’s an agent?” A dom, then. It’s rare for subs to be granted permission to transition to senior roles, and not without their primary dom’s express written consent. Bucky’s a sergeant, and capped at that. She and Steve have moved close enough that their features are visible- and yep, okay, definitely flirting. “She’s pretty,” he admits, a little begrudgingly; and she is, almost intimidatingly so. Her bright lips are lined perfectly, not a smudge out of place, her gaze sharp and calculating. 

“Yeah, well, don’t fall over yourself trying to land her. She’s barely here a week, or so I’ve heard.” Bucky’s already up out of his seat, food half-eaten. “Hey, where you going?”

Jones gets no reply, because Bucky’s already jogged off towards Steve and Carter, slowing hastily as he nears them. 

Steve turns. “What- oh. Hi. I was just going to go looking for you.” He puts out a hand instinctively to lead Bucky in towards the pair, inviting, and Bucky has to concentrate incredibly hard to resist the thought of Steve’s hand in _other_ places. 

“Agent Carter.” Bucky greets her as is customary for a sub, head bowed ever so slightly, hands clasped. “I’ve heard a lot about your achievements.” It’s a bold-faced lie, but whatever.

She tilts her head, seeing right through him. “That’s odd. My involvement in any projects are kept strictly confidential.” Beside her, Steve snorts. Bucky’s immediately on the defensive, and he has to hand it to her: she’s astute enough that she notices, and fluidly changes the subject. “So, you’ve known Steve a while?”

“We go way back,” Steve tells her. “Grew up together, actually.”

Bucky kind of wants to kick himself for feeling a swell of affection over Steve stating a goddamn fact.“Brooklyn born and raised,” he says instead. “England, I presume?”

“The accent sort of gives it away, doesn’t it?” Agent Carter says, laughing slightly. “I’d be atrocious undercover.”

“Right.” Steve’s grinning, his eyes free and dancing. “You’re _atrocious_ ,” he mimics her accent, “undercover. Definitely.” It’s more than a little odd to see Steve have such a rapport with someone Bucky’s just met. Someone who he’s obviously been undercover with without mentioning a word about.

Snickering, Agent Carter elbows Steve, and then she turns back to Bucky. “I don’t know how you put up with him all these years.”

“Rest assured it was a challenge.” Steve mock-scowls. And looks cute doing it, the fucker. “So, Agent Carter,” Bucky starts, but she interrupts him with an exaggerated frown.

“Oh, no. You have me at a disadvantage, here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I don’t know your name.”

“Barnes,” he says smoothly. “Sergeant James Barnes. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes sweep over him with a perceptiveness that unnerves him; then, she smiles. “Likewise, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thank you.” Bucky glances at Steve restlessly. It was an impulsive decision to run after them, and he’s not quite sure why he did it, now. They eclipse him both in Bearing and in rank, so he falls back onto that. “Can I… get you anything? Ma’am,” he tacks on at the end, after a beat. Not all the higher-ranking people make him trot out the sirs and ma’ams, but those that do are absolutely insistent on it.  

“Oh, please.” She throws her head back and laughs easily, and Bucky feels more off-footed than before. “Call me Peggy.”

“Alright.” He clears his throat, adjusting his posture: shoulders square, head inclined, looking at her through his eyelashes. “I’m Bucky, then. Would you like me to get you anything?” He flashes her his trademark disarming grin, well aware of the effect he has on doms- or _most_ doms, anyways. One of them is stubbornly resistant to his best charms.

“Thank you, Bucky, but I’m comfortable for now. I appreciate the offer.”

“I’m happy to help. It’s not often we get such a pretty lady around here.”

Peggy’s eyebrows rise, and then she chuckles and glances at Steve, who, goddammit, is actually blushing. “My, your friend is quite the forward young man.”

“That he is,” Steve agrees, shaking his head, a tinge of pink still visible on his cheeks. “Hey, uh, Bucky? Looks like Jones wants you.”

“Hmm?” Bucky spins around, glancing back to the lunch tables where Jones is watching them with badly-concealed interest. “Nah, he’s fine.”

“No,” Steve repeats. “He wants you, look.” Jones is staring at them now- or more accurately, staring at Steve, whose eyes are boring into Jones with eagle-eyed intensity. Suddenly, Jones sits up straight and begins waving, gesturing Bucky over. “There, see.”

Although he’s… not quite sure how that just happened, Bucky rolls his eyes but obligingly jogs back to the lunch table, where Jones mutters something about food trays being collected soon. 

Bullshit. Steve didn’t want him around Peggy. Well, fine.

XXX

They’re in Steve’s room, as they always are, every night. Bucky sprawls on the bed while Steve tinkers around the room doing God-knows-what, and eventually, when one of them is tired, or when Steve decides to go all Protective Dom on him, he’s kicked out to go sleep in his own bunk.

Today, Steve is carefully examining a map laid out on the dresser, with red and yellow pins sticking out of it. For his part, Bucky has no need to even glance over the map; he made the damn thing, pins and all. Of course, Hodge took the credit, and as a sub, he’d have been screwed if he argued. 

It’s been a few hours since he met Agent Carter, and Bucky’s had more than enough time to dissect every facet of their conversation. And, a new possibility occurs: that it was maybe embarrassing Steve, to be associated so closely with a sub he treats as an equal. “Hey, Rogers.” 

It’s a few seconds before Steve answers. “… Yeah? Hey, did you see this? There’s a unit stationed near Nice.”

“Yeah, the platoon headed by Davids, I know.” He clears his throat, eyes trained on Steve’s back. “So about today… Was I- was that too much, d’you think?”

“Hmm?”

“Out there, with Peggy.”

Steve turns then, and his eyebrows are scrunched in that way he does when he’s concerned as he considers the question. “It was a little much, but I think she was flattered.”

Bucky changes tacks instantly, not wanting Steve to catch sight of the real reason for the question. “Ah, well.” He shrugs, blasé and cocky. “All doms can use a little flattering now and again.”

“You never flatter _me,_ ” Steve says, folding his arms. “ _I_ could use a little flattering now and again.”

Sitting up straighter, Bucky’s eyebrows raise, a grin curling around the edges of his mouth. “What, the fifty-odd chorus girls and the entire battalion licking your ass ain’t enough for you?”

“I’m waitin’, Buck.” When he doesn’t get a reply, his eyes narrow and he begins moving towards the bed.

“I gotta think,” says Bucky, hands flying up in surrender as Steve stalks closer. “This is a tough one. Cut me some slack, here!”

Steve pounces. Leaping onto Bucky, he quickly flattens the smaller man, taking several kicks that would have incapacitated anyone without the serum running through their veins. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes, breathing hard, and tries not to concentrate on the fact that Steve’s large hands are pinning him down, and curling around his waist, and one leg is tucked between his, and _holy mother of God_ who did he kill in his previous life to be constantly tested like this.

“It’s so difficult thinking of a way to compliment me that you have to _think_ about it?” Steve growls, voice low and teasing.

Bucky swallows. Has to think for a minute to remember what they were talking about. Oh, right. “Yeah, yeah, someone deflating your ego is a new experience, I know,” he croaks. “Just let me think. Give me a minute.” 

“Got one in mind?” Steve asks after two seconds tops.

“I can’t _think_ with you sitting on my lungs!” Bucky says, “Maybe if you let me up.”

“No.”

“Rogers…”

“No.”

“I have to be on my A-game, now let me up!” 

Steve moves off with a grin, settling at the foot of the bed with his arms folded, making what Bucky things is a hugely overdramatic show of waiting expectantly. He lets his eyes travel down Steve’s body, slowly and deliberately, before coming back up to meet his eyes. “Your shirt’s very nice.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s army regulation.

“Yeah, looks great, actually.” Bucky leans back, raising one knee in anticipation of the impending strike. “Really distracts from the whole face situation you got going on.”

“Jerk,” says Steve, and then laughs hysterically when Bucky jumps back, expecting retaliation, and falls off the bed.

Trying to keep the scowl on his face, Bucky picks himself up off the floor. “Punk,” he says, and shoves Steve off the other side of the bed; as he falls, Steve grasps at air and catches Bucky’s shirt, and they both tumble down together. They lie on the floor next to each other, both clutching their sides and laughing, and Bucky wants to kiss Steve. 

He doesn’t.

XXX

He’s having lunch with Jones and Hodge, who he despises. Where Jones is casually discriminatory without intending to be, the other man is outright cruel towards subs.

Just then, Hodge whistles. “Look at that! Captain America into doms, huh? Who woulda guessed.”

“What?” Bucky’s head spins around so fast he cricks his neck. “Where?” Following Hodge’s eyeline, he spots Steve and Peggy lounging on a bench right by Operations, and relaxes. Peggy’s got a hand on Steve’s arm, and he’s smiling, but Bucky chooses to ignore that. “Oh. That. He’s friends with Peggy.”

“Come on, boy, you gotta be blind not to see the torch he’s carrying for _Agent Carter_.” There’s a slight, deliberate emphasis on her title, serving as a subtle but tart reminder to address her as a sub should.

“They’re _friends_ ,” Bucky says, sounding petulant even to his own ears.

His dissent is mistaken as defensiveness, and Jones raises his hands. “Hey, if Rogers swings left, we ain’t gonna judge. That’s his business.”

Hodge bites into a carrot loudly, chewing with his mouth open, leering. “I say he’s got a thing for Carter.” As Peggy gets up from the bench and begins walking away, and Steve follows her, Hodge slaps his knee and crows, “Look at that, America’s sweetheart’s getting lucky with a dom today!”

“Don’t be an ass.” Bucky tears his eyes away. “He’s not into doms.” He knows he should shut up; a dom yelling in a sub’s face is not pleasant, and he’d rather avoid it.

“Yeah, says you.” Hodge points a fat finger into Bucky’s chest, and Bucky feels the hair on his arms rising. “The rest of us got eyes. Now sit down and watch your damn self.”

He already _is_ sitting down, but he doesn’t bother pointing that out to Hodge, opting instead for a simple “Fuck you.” 

The second it’s out, he knows it’s a mistake; Hodge rises instantly, all dominant alpha energy and self-righteous anger. “What did you just say to me?”

Bucky’s heart is hammering so fast it feels like it’s trying to escape and run to safety. “Are you deaf?” he asks, because there is a reason he’s friends with Steve, and his incredible impulse control and ability to stay out of trouble is not on that list.

“I swear to God, blinker, you better shut your mouth…”

“Or what?” Bucky challenges, knowing- _very much aware_ \- that this ranks right up there with some of the most stupid things he’s done in his life. Even as he speaks, he feels the urge to run and curl up with Steve overpowering. “Gonna tan my ass? Sure you can manage that, seeing as you can’t even stand up without running out of breath?”

Hodge looks mutinous, about a stone’s throw away from tearing into Bucky, but Jones has a warning arm placed strategically between the two. He settles for a glare and then says, in a low voice, “Shouldn’t be surprised the blinker’s taking this so personal. There goes his own little crush, eh, since Captain America turned out to be a floncy.”

Bucky’s vision goes white. He’s at Hodge’s throat before he’s finished with the last syllable, smashing his fist into the other man’s face. Hodge is quick to react, a brief grin flashing across his face before he swings his arm back and pummels it into Bucky’s side. They’re at each other, arms and legs and heels slamming into and around each other, and then they’re on the floor, and Bucky can hear Jones yelling something through the chaos but he’s too focused on jamming the heel of his hand against Hodge’s eye and then suddenly-

He’s lifted bodily off of Hodge, who’s being dragged up by two others; Bucky writhes out of the grip of whoever’s holding him, and is about to make a run for it when he hears Major Landers’ boom: “What the _fuck_ is going on here?!”

Immediately, Bucky straightens, as do all the men around him. Jones glances to the side, and then tells the commander of their company, “Just a tussle, Major. All’s good.”

“All ain’t good. It sure as fuck ain’t good when I’m disturbed from my doughnut for a fucking schoolyard fight.” His piercing eyes bore into Bucky, and then Hodge, with equal intensity. “Barnes. Hodge. With me!”

Bucky’s kicked in the shins and calves several times as he sullenly follows Landers to the base, and he doesn’t even bother turning around to see who it was. Most of the doms here are bitter as fuck about having to serve with a sub on their team, and the ones he outranks? They’d do anything to show him up. As if he’s reading Bucky’s thoughts, Hodge grabs Bucky’s collar and begins to pull so Bucky’s half-dragged, half-walking, to a small cheer from the other men.

Bucky tells himself he’s not batshit scared as allows himself to be tugged after Landers into the base. Where’s Steve? He would have seen the commotion, right? Ah shit shit fuck fuck fuck he fucked up, he fucked up, Steve is going to _kill_ him…

“Inside.” Landers holds the door open, and then slams it once they’re all in his office. “Explain.”

“Major, the blinker attacked me. He’s a menace. Nobody can control him.”

“ _Me?_ ” Bucky snarls. “You’re the fucking asshole who-”

“Who threw the first punch?” Landers booms. Bucky knows- _knows_ \- that if it had been Hodge who struck first, they would be dismissed with a simple warning.

“Barnes,” supplies Hodge.

Bucky stays silent. Landers studies him with a scowl. “Barnes, if Agent Carter saw that little display, you are out. There is no debate.” Ah fuck, so that’s why Landers was throwing such a hissy fit. Fights were common enough, and he never got involved. After a second, Landers says, “Hodge, you can leave.”

“Yes, sir.”

It’s just Bucky and Landers, now, and Lander is huge and one of the most terrifying doms Bucky has ever laid eyes on. Now that Hodge is gone, he allows himself to give in to his instincts- shoulders hunched, head bowed, making himself as small as possible, his heart pounding at a dizzyingly fast rate. He can feel a drop coming on. “What the _fuck,_ Barnes?!” Landers explodes. “This is the _fourth_ incident this month, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” he manages. He doesn’t know what Landers has in mind; the man can get creative with punishments. Sometimes it’s kitchen duty; other times, it’s grueling physical work. The worst, though, is the yelling- degrading tirades that last anywhere from five minutes to twenty, and leave Bucky shaking and sometimes, in a drop.

“I am fucking sick and tired of you. Goddamn fucking _blinker_! Why the _fuck_ they ever allowed your kind into the army, I don’t know! You ain’t worth the time of day, I’ll tell you that much. Useless, ridiculous piece of-”

“You’d better not finish that sentence, Landers.” _Steve._ The tension flows out of Bucky like water.

He doesn’t need saving, never has; he can deal with everything on his own, but after being discriminated against and having everyone and their mother abuse him, having a dom like Steve around is something he’ll never take for granted. 

“Your fucking sub assaulted Hodge.”

“I heard.” Steve’s tone is icy. “And I’ve told you before, I’m his registered dom, and if there’s an incident, I’ll deal with it. That’s army policy too, I believe. We’ve had this conversation before.”

Bucky knows why Landers never tells Steve: because Steve never does anything. Steve is Bucky’s best friend, and he’s never abused his power, or even dommed for him other than to help him through a drop every so often. 

“Fine,” says Landers shortly. “Get the fuck out of here, Barnes.”

Bucky and Steve walk silently; Bucky’s following his feet, not entirely sure where they’re going until his feet are standing at the door of Steve’s bunk, and then curled under him on Steve’s bed.

“Hey.” Steve’s in front of him, glass of water in hand. “You alright?”

“Sure.” Bucky manages a weak smile. “Takes more than that to get me down.”

Steve frowns, and then slides onto the bed next to Bucky, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. Ah, fuck, he needed that. His heart rate begins to slow instantly, and the painful pounding in his head starts to recede as Steve gently rubs his cold arm. 

"C'mere," says Steve, his voice low and controlled, clearing straight into Bucky's unsettled mind. "Landers is an ass, and you're okay."

Bucky closes his eyes and sighs, his fingers brushing across his forehead and temple. Deep breaths in and out, just like his ma taught him. Like all subs are taught. Focus on Steve's voice. 

"There you go. That's it. You're okay. It's all good."

It was close, but he didn’t actually drop, so Steve’s presence and comfort has him back to normal in less than ten minutes, even if he’s a little jittery. 

“What happened?” Steve asks gently, after he's given Bucky a once-over that lasted a good two minutes. “I was with Peggy, and next thing I know there’s a crowd and someone told me Landers dragged you off again…”

“Hodge called you a floncy.” The slur is for doms who sleep with other doms. “Peggy,” he adds, as an explanation.

Steve’s face tightens, and then he looks like he’s in pain. “Shit. Bucky…”

“Don’t bother.” He cracks a smile. “You’ve attacked thugs twice your height for calling me less; don’t think I don’t remember.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is all on Hodge. I fucking hate that prick.” Steve’s arm around him tightens, and Bucky leans into the contact, shamelessly lengthening the duration of the hug. When they were little, they used to be constantly touching each other- pokes, cuddles, nudges. Now, they don’t ever hug unless Bucky’s dropped or about to, or if Steve feels like Bucky needs some more contact. It’s all so _clinical._

The worst part in all of this isn’t even that Steve doesn’t care about him- because Steve _loves_ Bucky, and Bucky knows that just as surely as he knows his own name. What kills him a little inside is to be reminded every day that no matter how close they are, he’ll always just be a rebellious, snarky little shit- the wise-cracking side-kick sub that Steve wouldn’t look at twice, not like _that_. Not how Bucky wants him.

But here's the thing. Steve definitely likes subs; when they were younger, Bucky used to make fun of him for the way he went beet red whenever Ashley Morrigan asked to borrow a pencil. Bright red over a goddamn _pencil._

Bucky can do better than a pencil. Bucky's flirted, danced, batted his eyelashes with the best of 'em. He's something of a legend back in Brooklyn, and it ain't for no good reason.

Let it never be said that James Buchanan Barnes backs down from a challenge. 

**Author's Note:**

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